


The Betting Pool

by PkScholar



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Betting Pool, But they're super oblivious, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Friends to Lovers, Matchmaker Ron Weasley, Pk does crack, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Supportive Ron, Supportive Ron Weasley, denial is not just a river in egypt, or are they, this is gonna be so much fun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:02:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28748112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PkScholar/pseuds/PkScholar
Summary: Harry and Hermione were totally in love. It was obvious to anyone who saw them that they would get together at some point. But when? That was the million-Galleon question.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Comments: 38
Kudos: 101





	1. Hermione gets a convenient excuse

“Harry, stop, stop, stop. You’re going to ruin your robes.” 

Hermione yanked the spoon from Harry’s hand while reaching for a napkin. Dabbing some lemon and water onto it, she started vigorously scrubbing a bit of shepherd’s pie from his lapel. 

Harry just sat there, a bit confused, as his fellow first-year went to work. Since he was still new to the whole friends thing, Harry couldn’t help but wonder if this was normal behavior. He had seen some older girls sometimes fixing boys’ ties or things like that, but he wasn’t sure if it extended to cleaning clothes. Still, Hermione was very gentle and did clean him up well, if a little aggressively. Also, it was sort of nice when she held him. 

“Okay, now open up Harry. I’ll not have you staining any of your other clothes.” 

“Huh?” 

Hermione rolled her eyes and gestured with the fork in her hand. 

“I said open up, Harry. You need to finish eating.” 

Harry obediently ate the little bites of shepherd’s pie from her fork, and then the carrots and broccoli she added to his plate as well. It was a bit awkward at first, but Hermione found a system where they both ate from one plate and alternated taking bites of food. By the end of dinner she had them both eating healthy, balanced meals with typical Hermione Granger efficiency. 

Ron Weasley watched his friends with some confusion. Since when did Harry need help eating his food? The lad pondered the issue for a moment, but then saw an unclaimed platter of chicken legs and promptly forgot all about it.


	2. Gred and Forge spot a business opportunity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bet officially begins.

“Oi, Gred.” 

“Oi, I’m Forge. You’re Gred.” 

“No, I’m Forge. It’s Wednesday, remember?” 

“Wednesday it is, but you’re forgetting it’s a leap year.” 

“Oh...sorry, Forge. Anyways, you see Ron’s firstie friends over there?” 

Gred gestured to the little firstie trio, as everyone was calling them. Across from their little brother sat Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, glued at the hip as they always were. The girl was feeding the boy little bits of porridge from her own bowl, and the young Casanova seemed to be enjoying it quite a bit. 

“Young Harrikins seems quite taken with Hermione. I think this calls for some good old fashioned gambling. What do you think, Forge?” 

“Oh, I couldn’t agree more, Gred. Standard House Rules?” 

“Sure, but let’s up it to 1 Galleon for a full bet, and 9 Sickles for a half-bet. I think people will shell out for this one, my slightly slower brother.” 

“That’s quite a bit of money, my slightly less handsome brother. But I think you’re right.” 

Over the next two weeks, more than half of the Hogwarts population put down wagers into what quickly became the Weasley twins’ most ambitious gambling venture yet. Students of all 4 houses and all 7 years would corner the Weasley twins in the hallways to whisper a date into their ears and slip a Galleon into their palm. Even Professor McGonagall got into the action, placing a whopping 10 separate bets on various Christmases, Valentine’s Days, and every Hogsmeade weekend of what would be Harry and Hermione’s 3rd year. 

Ron was given the essential task of being the arbiter of the bet’s outcome. As Harry and Hermione’s best friend, he would be tasked with detecting when they “officially” became a couple. In exchange, he took a loan of 5 Galleons from his brothers to place his own slate of bets (insider trading was not prohibited; in fact, it was highly encouraged). 

Ron couldn’t wait to cash out. All he had to do was convince Harry and Hermione to start kissing and holding hands and that sort of stuff. It wouldn’t even be that hard! They did a lot of it already; he just had to keep nudging them in the right direction, and then, boom! Season tickets to the Chudley Cannons. 

Poor Ron. What began as a little personal project would soon become his personal hell. If only he knew.


	3. Hermione's Totally Platonic, Non-Romantic, Just Friends Kiss for Harry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Hermione pass another relationship milestone. As best friends, of course. Not dating. Nope, totally platonic, no romantic feelings here. 
> 
> Ron curses Fate.

_ Ouch. Ouch, ouch, ouch.  _

Ron woke up to a pounding headache and a weird aching soreness all across his left shoulder and back. He had no idea what day it was, and he was really hungry. It was time to get up and head to breakfast. 

_ Ouch ouch ouch ouch ouch- _

Okay, no getting up for a bit. Where was Ron? This didn’t look like the Gryffindor dorms at all. 

“Oh! There you are, Mr. Weasley. Just in time for your potions. Okay, blue one first, then purple, that’s a good lad...” 

So he was in the Hospital Wing. This was  _ not _ the breakfast he had in mind. 

“RON! Oh thank goodness, you’re awake now!” 

Hermione’s sudden appearance was what finally jogged Ron’s memory. He blinked slowly as his friend launched into a harried explanation of everything that had happened after he was knocked out during the chess match in their quest to rescue the Philosopher's Stone. It seemed like everything went okay, although Harry had been injured as well. 

“...Anyways, the puzzle was clever but actually fairly simple, really. So then Harry took the potion to go forward, and I took the one to go backward, and then, um-”

Hermione suddenly trailed off and glanced back at Harry’s bed. In the dim morning light, Ron could see that she had developed a fierce blush. 

Oh sweet Merlin. Ron did a quick bit of mental math and felt a rush of excitement. If it happened yesterday, he and McGonagall would tie and split the winnings.  _ Please, please let it be true.  _

“Did you two kiss?” He blurted out. 

“What?! How did you know?!” 

“I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT!” Ron did a little happy dance with the half of his body that still worked. 

“ _ Ronald!  _ It was just a friendly kiss on the cheek! I was really scared, and I thought Harry could use, um, you know…” 

Hermione trailed off again, mumbling something about  _ encouragement _ and  _ so brave _ . 

_ NOOOOOOO, no, no, no, Harry you useless clod, noooo…. _

Ron felt all of his excitement leach away. He closed his eyes again as he pictured his custom autographed Cleansweep flying far, far away...

Over the next four days, Hermione scarcely left the Hospital Wing at all. It would have been a nice gesture if she hadn’t spent 90 percent of that time talking to Harry, not Ron. 

Talking to  _ Harry _ . The bloke who was unconscious the whole time. 

After the heroic git finally woke up, things went back to normal. Hermione still fed Harry like a baby bird every meal, and they held hands more often than not, but whenever Ron tried to point out the obvious they insisted they were “just friends” again. 

_ Right.  _

Sighing, Ron consulted his calendar and noted that he at least claimed a few dates in the betting pool for next term. It looked like an enterprising group of Ravenclaws had tried to game the system by booking about 70% of the dates in the summer, but he knew that Hermione would be on vacation with her parents during most of that time. She hardly had the guts to ask Harry out in person, so it wasn’t like she was going to do it in a letter, was she? 

Ron was safe, at least temporarily. Now, he could use the summer to give his friends a firm shove in the right direction. He would just drop a few hints here, maybe coach Harry on some good birthday presents there, and boom! A brand new Cleansweep Seven with Galvin Gudgeon’s autograph right on the handle. 

After all, how much longer could it really take for Gryffindor’s Golden Couple to get together? It would have to happen at some point next year, right? Right?!


	4. Harry's Completely Platonic and non-Romantic Gift for his Best Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gets Hermione a gift which, to an outside observer, may carry some non-platonic connotations. Luckily, our heroes' skulls are thick enough for this knowledge not to enter them. 
> 
> Ron eats some cake and starts to lose his grip on his sanity. 
> 
> Accidentally made this chapter fluffier than I intended. #sorrynotsorry

In an empty classroom on the 3rd floor of Hogwarts Castle, about 20 or so people ducked behind chairs and tables were waiting with bated breath. 

“How much longer-”

“ _ QUIET!”  _ Ron whisper-shouted at Padma Patil, glaring at his impatient yearmate for good measure. He had waited too long for this moment. Worked too hard. Sacrificed too much. He would  _ not _ have his best shot at the betting pool ruined by botching things at the last minute. 

A few people fidgeted or murmured to their friends as they waited. Ron, by now a master of patience, merely glanced at his watch. 

_ It should be any moment now. Any moment… _

The door clicked open, and the gathering of Hermione’s friends and well-wishers all jumped out from their hiding places as one. 

“ _ SURPRISE! _ ”

Three things happened in quick succession. 

First, Hermione shrieked and flung herself back into Harry. 

Second, Fred and George unveiled some  _ extremely  _ loud fireworks which spelled out  _ HAPPY 13TH HERMIONE _ in eye-popping colors. 

Third, every single girl in the room exclaimed “ _ Awwwww!!! _ ” at the sight of Harry holding Hermione so closely. The varying pitches and intensities of their voices came together in a bizarre sort of orchestral effect. It was bloody weird, really. 

_ Yeah, yeah, hug it up, but don’t ever examine those pesky feelings, bloody morons… _

Ron went up to wish his friend a happy birthday. After squeezing the life out of him, Hermione turned to the two of them with suspiciously shiny eyes. 

“You went to all of this trouble for me?” 

“Of course we did! Harry absolutely insisted on it. He put everything together.” 

Ron thought he saw some happy tears well up in Hermione’s eyes and did an internal fist pump at his flawless execution. 

“It wasn’t just me, Hermione, Ron did a lot of the work too. In fact, he even went up to McGonagall-” 

_ HARRY I WILL KILL YOU FOR THIS, YOU FOOL, YOU FOOL, HOW MANY TIMES DID WE GO OVER THIS- _

“And asked for special permission for us to use this classroom and bring food up from the kitchens. He was brilliant, really!” 

Looking a bit confused and overwhelmed, Hermione swept both of them up into another grateful hug before she was waylaid by some of the girls in their year. 

Ron heaved a sigh and stared up the heavens to curse Fate once again. He spared a moment to give his best mate a baleful glance that said:  _ We will speak of your failure later _ . Of course Harry missed it entirely, as he was all too focused on watching Hermione float around the room with a stupid grin on his face. Cursing Fate once again, Ron headed to the snack table. 

Overall, the party was a smashing success. Cake was cut, Snaps were Exploded, and Hermione came away with several new additions to her personal library. 

Eventually, after everyone had filtered out and all the clean-up was done, the Trio was left in the classroom as Hermione could not decide upon an organizational scheme for hew new books. While she pontificated on the merits of last-name-alphabetical, title-alphabetical, and Dewey Decimal, Ron gave Harry a meaningful look as he grabbed another slice of cake and made himself scarce. 

As Ron left the room to find a good eavesdropping position, Harry mustered all of his Gryffindor courage and turned to the birthday girl. 

“Um, Hermione? I...I actually got you another gift.” 

“Harry, please! You’ve already spent so much time and money. The one gift was more than enough.” 

“Well, er...this didn’t cost any money. I already had it. Well, er, not me exactly, but...”

Hermione watched eagerly as Harry fumbled around in his bag and brought out a small wooden box with an old-fashioned metal clasp. He opened it to reveal a small silver chain with a tiny owl charm. 

“I found it in my Gringotts vault, along with some other old family stuff...I think this used to belong to my Mum.” 

Swallowing nervously, Harry glanced up to see Hermione’s eyes had gone wider than he had ever seen before. He paused, losing his train of thought as he noticed how cute she looked tonight. 

Hermione didn’t seem to be much better at articulating her thoughts. 

“You...your Mum...for  _ me _ ?” 

Harry nodded, not sure what he was supposed to say. 

She stuck out her left wrist suddenly, while ducking her head to hide behind the curtain of her hair. Praying that he wasn’t misunderstanding, Harry fumbled with the clasp of the bracelet for a second as he attached it to her wrist. 

Hermione withdrew her arm for a moment to thumb the little owl charm pensively. For a long moment, she just stood there in the dimming light of the torches, before straightening up again and looking at Harry with the same wide eyes from before.

Somehow he felt like he was meeting her for the first time all over again. 

Hermione inched up to him uncharacteristically slowly, still maintaining that wide-eyed expression as though she were seeing him for the first time. Harry spread his arms wide and she stepped into him, wrapping herself around his ribcage in a way that was new to him. She was as firm as ever, but also gentle, as though he were something delicate to be preserved. Nobody had ever treated him like this before. 

The next few weeks would mark a new phase in Harry and Hermione’s relationship. Gryffindor’s “Golden Couple,” having been close all of first year, felt even more connected and lucky to have found such good best friends in each other. The only thing to bring them down was Ron’s mood. He seemed normal most of the time, but occasionally he would start staring off into space and start muttering strange things to himself, like “I’ll never win” or “it’s hopeless.” The two wanted to help out their friend, but seeing as he wouldn’t tell them what had gotten him upset, they decided not to worry about it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In an earlier draft I spent some time describing the details of the cake's icing, flavoring, etc because, ya know, Ron's internal monologue...but then I got hungry and just made some banana bread. 
> 
> If you haven't made banana bread I would recommend it. It's surprisingly easy!


	5. The Flaw in Ron's Equations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By the end of 2nd year, Ron has built some sophisticated models to predict the behavior of Harry and Hermione's denial. Watch what happens when a public incident leads him to discover a fatal flaw in one of them.

Ron idly looked at the other tables in the Great Hall, all packed to the gills with students elated to have completed another year at Hogwarts. He felt Harry sigh heavily beside him as they waited for Dumbledore’s customary speech before the beginning of the feast. 

Ron couldn’t blame his best mate, really. Ever since Hermione had been Petrified, Harry had drifted through the castle like a ghost, saying little and rarely making his presence known outside of the Hospital Wing. After the crazy events in the Chamber of Secrets a week ago, everyone had breathed a sigh of relief, but Harry had just gotten more listless and despondent now that he had nothing to do. 

“And now, with our bookbags empty and hearts lighter, we can once again greet our friends who have been apart from us for so long. Thanks to the tireless efforts of Professors Sprout and Snape…” 

Ron blinked owlishly at the Head Table. When had Dumbledore started talking? He tried to translate from Dumbledore-speak to English (it was difficult without Hermione present), but his thoughts were interrupted by a jolt on his right-hand side. Harry had sat up from his deep slouch to a ramrod-straight posture, and was intensely following Dumbledore’s every word. Ron watched with mild concern as his best mate started to practically vibrate, fidgeting in his seat and incessantly tapping his foot under the table. 

Finally, Dumbledore stopped speaking and spread his arms with a serene smile. At his command, the doors of the Great Hall flew open to reveal a small cluster of students, of various years and Houses, flanked by a beaming Madam Pomfrey. 

For a moment, nobody moved.

Then, a small brown blur broke away from the group to streak towards the Gryffindor table. At the same time, Ron felt Harry literally _climb_ over him with unbelievable agility. Even so, Harry barely made it four paces before the Harry-seeking-missile traversed the length of the hall and crashed into him, sending him staggering backwards with the momentum of her hug. 

The entirety of the hall burst into cheers and applause. A spell seemed to lift as the rest of the petrified students started to move to their respective House tables, each receiving their own warm welcomes.

Meanwhile, Harry and Hermione kept hugging. And hugging. And hugging. 

At some point, the applause died off. Everyone was seated now, and the excited chatter from the re-entry of the petrified students had settled down to a normal murmur of convseration.

Gryffindor’s Golden Couple were still upright and hugging the absolute lights out of each other, completely unaware of their surroundings. 

Ron’s stomach gave a loud gurgle of complaint. Absently, he glanced at his watch, noting that only about six minutes of hugging had occurred. He sighed in resignation and began cataloguing the different permutations of food he could consume later. _Chicken, then potatoes, then peas. Or peas, then beef stew, then chicken and potatoes in combination. Maybe a mince pie before the stew…_

Unfortunately, the set of possible meal sequences was finite. Very, very large. But finite. After that entertaining but rather torturous mental exercise, Ron once again looked up to see his friends still glued to the same spot. The chatter from before had completely died off, giving way to a heavy and somewhat awkward silence. 

The Professors seemed to not know what to do. Dumbledore was still smiling serenely. McGonagall’s lips had bent into some strange shape Ron had never seen on her face before; if he didn’t know better, he would say it was her version of a smile. Weirdest of all was Snape, who was...crying? 

Finally, Hagrid saved the day by shifting over to mutter something to the Headmaster. Dumbledore nodded, looking a bit chastised, before waving his wand to allow the feast to finally appear on the tables. 

The entire student body seemed to collectively groan in relief as they reached for the nearest pile of food. Ron, having had ample time to decide on the optimal sequencing of his food, reached for a tureen of buttered peas as he spared a final glance at his friends. The two had not moved an inch in the past 15 minutes. Rolling his eyes in exasperation, he set aside one plate for the two of them, piled with a diverse selection of foods, before tucking into his long-awaited dinner. 

… 

“Weasley! Hey, Weasley!” 

_Here we go again._

“Weasley! Ron!” 

“Yes, yes, I’m coming.” 

Ron snagged a final piece of bacon for the road before dutifully following Hazel Wordsworth out of the Great Hall. Thankfully the Ravenclaw third-year had waited until the end of breakfast before cornering him. The self-styled forecasting expert of Hogwarts dragged him down a corridor into an abandoned classroom, where he came face to face with a group of a dozen Ravenclaws all looking like Christmas had come early. 

_Oh, joy. She’s gathered her entire team._

In his capacity as the arbiter of the Betting Pool, Ron had had to deal with over-eager collectors at least countless times over the past two years. The role had exposed him to all sorts of people at Hogwarts: the confident, the happy-go-lucky, the methodical, and the superstitious. But perhaps the most annoying bettors of all were the _packs_. These groups of students - usually Ravenclaws who had seen one too many Vegas heist movies - would buy up entire swathes of dates on the calendar, hoping to maximize their chances by pooling their resources. Then, they would watch Harry and Hermione’s every move like a pack of vultures, and when one of them got the idea that the Bet was finally resolved, they would descend upon Ron to collect.

Hazel Wordsworth was the pioneer of this strategy. The aggressive Ravenclaw and her posse had an uncanny ability to guess the dates with the most public examples of Golden-Couple-moments. She had done it with Hermione’s birthday, and now here she was again. 

“Hazel, I’m sorry to disappoint, but the Betting Pool is still open.” 

Several people in the room snorted or exclaimed in disbelief. Hazel crossed her arms mutinously. 

“Weasley, I’m not here to play games. The entire school saw it yesterday. It’s official. Now pay up.” 

Ron heaved a sigh. “How many times do I have to repeat the rules? The sole end condition of the Betting Pool is a public acknowledgment of the relationship, which consists of verbal confirmation from both parties, or a betrothal-slash-engagement-slash-wedding.” Ron recited all this very quickly and matter-of-factly, as he had done hundreds of times before. 

“I didn’t see any rings yesterday,” he continued, “and you can ask either of them about their relationship status if you don’t trust me as the messenger.”

Brian Cadwallader, a burly fifth-year, exclaimed “But that’s ridiculous! You’re telling me every time they see each other they hug for like, a year, but they’re just friends?! Who does that?”

“The hug was twenty-two minutes, Brian. Hardly a year.” 

“Are you even hearing yourself? In what world is that bloody normal?” 

Several of Brian’s teammates nodded or murmured in agreement. Ron gave another long-suffering look at Hazel, who was still standing there mulishly with her arms crossed. 

“What’s it going to take to end this meeting, Hazel?” 

“1,272 Galleons.” 

_It’s actually up to 1,411 but somehow I don’t think mentioning that would help._

“Okay...you know what? You’re all Ravenclaws, right? So you understand in logic and facts?” 

“Exactly, Weasley!” Brian cut in again, “which is why you had better-” 

“Okay, okay, shut up for a second. Let me find my blue binder…” 

Ron marched up to the teacher’s desk at the front of the room and dug around in his bag. Buried underneath some half-finished notes and Chocolate Frog wrappers, he found an enormous plastic binder marked simply as “3.” Flipping through it for a second, he found the page he was looking for and strode up the blackboard and picked up a piece of chalk.

_DASH:_   
_DENIAL_   
_AWKWARDNESS_   
_SHYNESS_   
_HARMONY_

“Now, I’m going to discuss a variety of things today, but when in doubt, remember DASH! Simple word, easy to remember, but it explains a hell of a lot, okay?” 

A first-year he didn’t recognize raised her hand. 

“What does harmoniousness have to do with the rest of these?” 

“Not harmonious, but Harmony.” 

_HARMONY = HARRY + HERMIONE_

“Ohhhh, okay. Sorry.” 

“That’s okay! There’s no dumb questions in this business.” He assured. “Trust me,” he added in a bitter undertone. “ _Trust me._ ” 

Turning back to the board once again, Ron started drawing his usual Venn diagrams and annotations. “Now, let’s discuss a few real-world examples with the DASH framework. Starting with the Christmas incident of ‘91, we can see that…” 

A half-hour later, the Ravenclaw crew had filled up several valuable reams of parchment. Ron was leading the classroom in a lively debate on the subtle differences between open-palm and finger-laced hand-holding. 

“Wait a second!” Hazel burst in. “What are we doing here? This is all very interesting, but I came here to collect our money! Nothing you’ve said has proved that we haven’t won the Betting Pool!” 

“Have you not been paying attention at all?” Ron gestured vaguely at the four chalkboards full of diagrams, pie-charts, timelines, and acronyms. His shirt had come untucked and he had a slightly deranged look in his eye. 

“No! What was the hug yesterday all about? You still haven’t explained it!” 

“Oh, right. Wait, I thought it was in my blue binder…” Ron started flipping through the binder again, muttering something about data-gathering and storage systems. Eventually, he lighted upon the right passage and rushed back to the board, wiping away the explanation for _PLATONIC (Pathetically Loud Attractions Totally Obstruct Normal Interactions Constantly)_ to write: 

_Y = MX + B_

“You’re all familiar with the slope-intercept equation for a line, I assume?”

Hazel nodded numbly, looked shocked that someone besides her knew any math. 

“Now, based on my observations, there is a simple relationship between hug length and time apart.” 

_Y = HUG LENGTH_   
_X = TIME APART_   
_B = MINIMUM HUG LENGTH (INTERCEPT)_   
_M = DENIAL COEFFICIENT (SLOPE)_

“Now then,” Ron began, in his lecturing voice from earlier, “all evidence indicates an intercept-value of roughly 15 seconds and a day-to-second denial coefficient of about 30 seconds. Put plainly, after each day apart Harry and Hermione will hug for about 30 extra seconds, in addition to the minimum 15-second value. Minimal-length hugs can be commonly observed during lunches, walks, or classes. Longer hugs include the daily wake-up hug and goodnight hug. Until yesterday, the post-holidays hug from after the Christmas break was the longest hug observed to date, and it matched up perfectly with my estimates for minimum hug length and denial coefficient. Yesterday’s hug in the Great Hall obviously adds even more evidence to the separation-hug-duration equation. 

Any questions?” 

Bethany, the sole first-year, raised her hand. 

“What about other variables like mood? Or external events like a birthday or holiday? Wouldn’t those influence hugs as well?” 

“Well, of course, this equation isn’t perfect. But as you can see, this would generally predict the right thing, unless something altered the fundamental setup. For example, if Harry were to…” 

Ron trailed off and stared into space for a long moment. “No…” he mumbled, “that couldn't…”

Ron ran back to his binder, flipping frantically before reaching the end. “No, no it’s not...I mean, even if there was a small error…” he muttered to himself. The assembled Ravenclaws traded nervous looks. 

Ron rushed to his bag and pulled out an identical-looking gray binder (this one was labeled "2") next to his blue one. He started rapidly flipping through the pages, before abandoning both binders and rushing to a board with a list of dates. 

“Hazel! What day of the week was Valentine’s Day this year?!” 

“Er...Thursday, I think?” 

“Do you think or do you know? I need to KNOW, Hazel! _WHAT DAY WAS IT?!_ ” Ron shrieked, with bits of spittle flying off of his lip. Bethany flinched and looked to Brian for support. The older boy was already packing his bag with slow, cautious movements. 

“Why does it matter?” 

“The Frogs!”

“What frogs?” 

“THE CHOCOLATE FROGS, HAZEL, WHAT OTHER BLOODY FROGS WOULD I BE TALKING ABOUT?!”

Hazel blinked and slowly started backing away from Ron, who was aggressively erasing and re-drawing lines and arrows on the board. Brian pulled out his wand and started directing the rest of the group out of the classroom very, very slowly. 

“We have to account for the Chocolate Frogs, Hazel! Have I taught you nothing?! Stupid, stupid of me. Of course a simple denial coefficient would be fine in normal circumstances, but if I were to ignore certain Frogs...stupid, stupid, stupid, which bloody binder did I put it in...where's my timeline from ‘92…” 

Hazel waited for everyone to vacate before slowly backing out of the room, not taking her eyes off of Ron. The young redhead was tightly pulling chunks of his own hair, muttering and shaking his head as he stared from chalkboard to chalkboard. 

“It could be reset from the Halloween feast, but then observations from November are all off...I knew I should’ve tracked the cards, amateur mistake...stupid, stupid, stupid...need to recalibrate everything since October ‘92, maybe even September, go back to square one and do it all proper...need to explicitly account for the Frogs…” 

Hazel turned on her heel and fled.

 _What a bewildering morning_ , she thought, as she hastily made her way bay to Ravenclaw tower. Clearly Weasley had deeply studied Gryffindor’s Golden Couple, but after more than 30 minutes of his instruction Hazel felt even more confused than she had at the beginning. Shaking her head, she recalled the famous passage from Nietzsche: " _Do not gaze long into the abyss, for it also gazes back at you._ " Was this the effect of observing the madness that was Gryffindor's Golden Couple in denial? An intricate knowledge that could lead to more than a thousand Galleons, but possibly at the cost of one's sanity?

 _Who am I kidding. Not possibly. Definitely._ If Weasley was an indicator, there was no doubt at all that her sanity was at risk. He had clearly gone mad long ago. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who don't like math, don't worry. Neither does Ron. He had to learn it out of necessity, not pleasure :P


End file.
